


The Harsh Reality

by RailMeBarrow



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Gay, Hiding Medical Issues, Illnesses, Loneliness, Self-Hatred, Sick Character, Vomiting, conversion therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:22:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29049855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RailMeBarrow/pseuds/RailMeBarrow
Summary: Thomas undergoes conversion therapy in order to "fix" himself.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

As Thomas walked up the path to the servants entrance, he recalled how tiring the past few days had been. He remembered how excited he had been at the prospect of a happy life, a normal life. Then came the pain. He hadn't been told how painful this “therapy” would be. It wasnt at all therapeutic as the name had suggested.

Each time he closed his eyes it all came back, it was almost as if the electricity was running through his veins anew, stabbing at every inch of his body, shaking him violently for minutes that felt like years, the feeling of being burned from the inside out. He inhaled sharply at the memory. 

Best not to think about it. 

He finally approached the door and found himself having to lean against it to catch his breath. He hoped this fatigue would wear off soon, it would be hard to do his job while having to stop every few minutes for a breather. Nevertheless, a few weeks of tiredness would be worth it for a lifetime of normality.

He pushed himself off the wall and opened the door. His head spun as he walked down the dingy corridor towards the servants hall where everyone seemed to be cleaning up after lunch. He was thankful he had missed it, unable to stomach anything more than a cup of tea.

“Mr Barrow, you're back” said Carson gruffly. “I'm afraid you've missed our luncheon but your'e in time to help upstairs.” Thomas felt the colour fall from his face at the thought of work. He could hardly make it up the path, now he was expected to be running up and down the stairs? Lucky him. 

“Maybe there's something left…” said Mrs Hughes, seemingly noticing his pale complexion. 

“Don't bother.” said Thomas quickly, the thought of eating making his stomach turn. “I'm not hungry.” he hoped they would buy that excuse for however long it took for this to wear off. 

“Charming as ever, I see.” muttered Carson, bustling past him. Fuck you too, thought Thomas. Stupid bastard. 

Thomas walked away, hoping to have a bit of peace and quiet for just a few minutes. No such luck. 

“How's your father doing?” asked Baxter. His father. He'd forgotten he'd made that excuse. 

“Ah, much better, as it happens” he improvised, knowing that Baxter would find out some way if his father had actually died. “In fact he's quite well again.” 

“That's good news!” said Anna, joining the small crowd of women around him. Why does he only get attention when it's the last thing he wants?

“Yes, it is.” he said before quickly making his escape. He walked up the stairs to his room quickly, knowing that if he stopped, he might not start again. He put his suitcase down on his bed and opened it. He hadn't taken much with him, just a change of clothes and a little cash so it only took him a minute or so to unpack.

Once he had put everything back in its place, he turned his attention to the small wooden box he had hidden at the back of his case. Not that anyone would be rifling through his stuff, but it was better safe than sorry. 

He opened the box. He wasn't due an injection for a few hours yet but he decided he should make himself familiar with the contents. It contained a syringe, some pills and a few vials of liquid that he had been instructed to inject himself with twice a day. It wasn't much for the amount he paid, but if it worked and fixed him, he'd be willing to pay double. 

He closed the box and stashed it at the bottom of his wardrobe before getting changed into his livery and making his way back downstairs. He kept reminding himself, this will all be worth it when you're normal. 

~~~

The day dragged on for what seemed like years but finally, it was over and everyone sat down for dinner. Thomas was starving, he hadn't eaten since the day before and that had only been half a sandwich. He'd been waiting the whole day to dig his teeth into something meaty and eat, properly eat, not his usual picking halfheartedly. 

But when his steak pie was put in front of him, his appetite was suddenly gone, vanished into thin air. As everyone around him eagerly tucked in, Thomas could only sit and stare, the smell of the food overwhelming him, making his stomach tighten. 

Waves of nausea washed over him until he couldn't take it anymore and abruptly stood up, his chair scraping on the floor. Everyone stopped eating and turned their eyes to him. “You’ll-have-to-excuse-me” he rushed out before walking briskly from the hall. He heard their confused mutterings as he walked away but all he could think about was getting to a sink before he spilled his guts. 

He found himself in the kitchen and rushed over to the sink there, barely noticing Mrs Patmore and the kitchen maids eating their dinner around the table next to him. He felt the bile rise as he leaned over the sink, retching. Nothing but stomach acid came up, seeing as he hadn't eaten for a few days.

Suddenly there was a hand at his shoulder, rubbing calming circles into his back. He jerked away from the small hand and stood up, wiping his face on his own hand.  
“Thomas…” came Daisy's sickly high voice. He groaned internally. She was the last person he wanted to talk to. “Are you alright?” 

“Never mind if he's alright Daisy!” said Mrs Patmore before Thomas could start to defend himself from Daisy's pity. “Ask when he plans to clean my sink! I've to make breakfast, how am I gonna do that with no sink?” 

“I'll clean it Mrs Patmore, okay?” The cook nodded reluctantly. “Thomas, what's the matter? If you're ill, I can give you a bowl to take up to bed? You shouldn't be down here…”

“I'm fine.” said Thomas, sliding a neutral mask over his face, trying to hide the pain he was in. his mind drifted to the small wooden box a few floors above him. Maybe he was due another injection... 

“Are you sure?” pestered Daisy, her face painted with concern. 

“Just leave me-” Thomas started before Mrs Patmore interrupted.

“Daisy! Leave Thomas be and clean up this mess, for goodness sake girl!” she screeched. Thomas took this opportunity to escape from Daisy's prying. He walked past the servants hall where everyone was still eating their dinner and outside for a smoke. 

He leaned against the brick wall, watching the smoke curl in front of his face with each exhale. This was turning out to be quite the debacle.


	2. Chapter 2

Thomas woke up with a start. His dreams had been a blur, they danced across his mind, teasing him with images of Jimmy. It was filled with warm embraces and soft hands stroking his head. At least it wasn't sexual. The treatment was working to some extent.

He rubbed his eyes wearily as he sat up in bed. It was 5:34am. Usually he would take this opportunity to have a lie in for half an hour, maybe read a little, but he thought it best that he go to the bathroom and take his injection while no one was awake to interrupt him. 

He dug the small wooden box out from the back of his wardrobe, put on his dressing gown and walked to the bathroom at the end of the corridor. He noted that he hardly felt nauseous at all, thankful that it had finally worn off. Maybe he would feel different when actually presented with food though.

He shut the bathroom door behind him, checking it was locked before opening the box. He filled his cup up with water from the sink and washed back a pill. Now onto the tricky part. He pulled the waistband of his striped pyjama trousers below his hip, revealing the injection site.

It was red and tender, as well as slightly raised. He supposed his skin was just irritated. He removed the syringe and a vial from the box, unscrewing the lid of the vial and plunging the needle into it, drawing the liquid up until it reached the required amount. He tapped the syringe and squirted a little out, ensuring there were no air bubbles before piercing the tender skin of his hip with it.

A pained gasp escaped his lips as he brought his injured hand to his mouth, biting down on it to muffle any other sounds. He pushed down on the plunger and pulled it out quickly. A tear escaped his eye as he lay his hand gently on his hip, hoping to soothe the burning there.

After packing everything away and closing the box, he looked to the mirror. The man staring back at him was pale and dishevelled, eyes red and brimming with tears, dark stubble growing across his cheeks. This will all be worth it in the end, he reminded himself as he wiped his eyes. 

He shaved slowly, careful not to nick himself as his hands shook. He sniffed as he dried his face with a soft towel. Much better. He looked to the clock. 5:58am. He went back to his room to get dressed before everyone else woke up. He hissed as he brought his black trousers up over his hip, even the smallest brush against it wracking pain through his body.

He walked down the stairs slowly, his head pounding at the racket coming from the kitchen. He took his usual place at the table and was pleasantly surprised when the smell of bacon and eggs didnt send him running to the kitchen sink. He wasn't sure if he could manage eating anything much yet so he settled for a piece of plain toast. 

One by one, the staff emerged from their rooms and took their seats at the table. Carson began his usual runthrough of the day as everyone ate their breakfasts, mounds of bacon and sausage and egg and porridge, Thomas felt quite out of place with his solitary piece of unbuttered toast and glass of water. 

Daisy smiled at him when he brought his plate of crusts through to the kitchen. “I'm glad you're feeling better Thomas!” she beamed, taking his plate out of his hands and washing it.

“That's Mr Barrow to you.” he growled back at her. The last thing he wanted was pity from someone as piteous as Daisy. He stormed out of the kitchen to the wine cellar where Carson had instructed him to count all the wine and make sure there weren't any extras. 

A younger Thomas would have seen this as a golden opportunity to liberate a few bottles without anyone noticing but now all Thomas wanted to do was go to bed and sleep till this all wore off. He felt so old. 

~~~

The day went by slowly, the upstairs dinner even slower. Thomas felt ready to nod off at any second, the family’s conversations boring him into a stupor. Bouts of dizziness overcame him but thankfully, no one seemed to notice the occasional falter in his step.

For dinner he picked at the stew Mrs Patmore had made, only eating the occasional vegetable, content with just pushing the food around the plate while everyone else devoured the usually tasty meal. The cook gave him a strange look when he handed back the majority of his meal but decided not to comment on it after seeing his display the night before.

After all the plates were taken away, Carson began his usual after-dinner briefing of the next day and Thomas tuned out. He was so tired. He'd hardly done any work today, other than counting the wine and serving dinner, but he felt like he'd ran a marathon. He felt his eyes begin to close and forced himself to open them and listen to whatever mundane topic Carson was rambling on about now. 

Having finished his speech, Carson left for his office and Thomas got out his cigarettes, eagerly lighting one. He inhaled deeply, taking a big drag and feeling his lungs fill with smoke. He hadn't smoked all day, every free moment used to try and catch his breath. He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift up in front of him. 

After finishing his cigarette, he made his way to his room, it was time for his second injection of the day. He picked up the box and headed to the bathroom again, only to find it was occupied. Annoyed, Thomas headed to the next best one and locked the door behind him. 

He opened the box and took out the pills, the syringe and a vial. He took off his jacket and grimaced as he pulled his trousers down below his hip. It had gotten worse, more irritated and red, hard and hot when he touched it tenderly. He decided to ignore it, hoping it would go away soon, a short term side effect. 

He took his pill and filled the needle once again, unable to hold in a groan and he plunged it into the same hole as he had made before. A blinding pain radiated from his hip as his eyes filled with tears, hip nose starting to run. He let out a series of smaller gasps as he withdrew the needle again, sobs now wracking his body. 

Suddenly there was a sharp knock at the door. “Hello?” came the worried voice of miss Baxter. “Who’s in there?” she asked. Thomas stayed silent, hoping she would leave. He should have been more quiet. 

“Please, let me know who’s in there!” she said, unsatisfied with the silence within and determined to find out. She knocked again.

“Go away!” gasped Thomas, his voice filled with pain. His body shook as he pulled up his trousers again, tears running freely from his eyes.

“Mr barrow…” said miss Baxter, realising who was within. “Would you like me to fetch a man to help you?” when he didn't respond she took to turning the door knob again, intent on getting in. Thomas came to the other side of the door, resting his head on it as a bout of dizziness overcame him again. “Mr Barrow…” muttered Baxter.

Thomas opened the door quickly. “What man?” he said, his voice choked with tears. “There isn't a man in this house who’d help me.” he sniffed, his face red and swollen from crying. Miss Baxter tried to enter into the bathroom to help him but he pushed her away as she shouted,

“What's the matter with you?” he watched as her eyes flew to where the box lay open on the table. He swiftly slammed the door in her face. 

“Just mind your own business!” he yelped, resting his forehead on the cold wood once again, his body shaking like a leaf. He sobbed gently as he closed the box. This wasn't doing him any good. But it will all be worth it in the end. 

It will all be worth it in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed this chapter! i wrote it while i was meant to be working oops. anyway i quite liked writing this and im excited to get started on the next chapter. 
> 
> thank you for reading <3


	3. Chapter 3

Thomas stayed in the bathroom for some time, trying desperately to control his breathing, he wiped his face down with a cold wet towel to try and lessen the redness. After a while he deemed himself presentable and opened the door, taking the box back to his room and hiding it back in its place.

He then went downstairs and headed into the kitchen to get a cup of water, dehydrated from all the crying. Kitchen maids darted around and he dodged between them, getting a cup and filling it from the now pristine sink. He leaned against a wall as he gulped it down, his eyes almost drooping shut.

“Oh Mr Barrow.” said Mrs Patmore, coming back from the pantry. “Do you have the chafing dishes? I need two more for breakfast tomorrow.” 

He opened his eyes slowly, not having heard a word she said. “Pardon?” 

“Do pay attention boy, I need two chafing dishes. Where are they?” she asked, frustrated at him for not listening the first time.

“Oh, Molesley will have them. I'll ask him where they are.” he said slowly pushing himself off the wall, his head starting to pound. He raised a hand to it, as if the gesture would cure him somehow. Mrs Patmore peered at him.

“Are you quite alright Mr Barrow?” she asked, her face painted with concern.

Thomas scoffed. “Well you've changed your tune.” he remarked before walking away, careful not to fall over. 

He walked into the servants hall where Baxter sat alone, fiddling with something. He stood in the doorway and sighed, making his presence known. He hoped to god that she wouldn't mention the earlier events, suddenly scared that she would tell Carson. 

“Has Molesley gone to bed?” he asked gruffly, trying to sound big and strong, a different man from the one sobbing and shaking she had seen earlier. Baxter waited a second before replying.

“Yes.” how eloquent, remarked Thomas silently, too tired to actually respond. “Why?” she asked.

“Mrs Patmore needs two more chafing dishes, first thing tomorrow” he answered, leaning against the door as his head spun. Maybe he just needed a fag, he hadn't had one for a while, he thought as he got out his packet and a lighter.

“You can tell him in the morning” she said, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on her work. 

“Not so pallay now are ya?” remarked Thomas, unable to keep it to himself. “Why are you still up” he asked, placing a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it.

“Just wanted to get this finished.” she said tensely. She was being unusually quiet this evening. “Your father was never ill was he?” ah there it was. Thomas had been expecting this. 

“Sorry?” asked Thomas, pretending he hadn't heard her as he took a deep drag from his cigarette to calm himself.

“Are you the one who's ill, is that it, is that why you went away?” she rambled. Thomas could almost smell how anxious she was. 

“What's it to do with you?” he asked, trying to play it cool, his headache getting worse by the minute.

“I'm right aren't I? you're the one who's ill. You went away to be treated and now you're trying to carry on with the treatment yourself.” her voice was soft but her words hit Thomas like blows to the head. He'd only been back a few days, how had she already figured it out. He cursed himself for being so transparent. 

“Yeah well it has nothing to do with you, so just leave me alone.” he retorted, quickly retreating up the stairs and back to his own room. He sat on his bed, one hand massaging his temple, the other gently cupping his hip. He felt like an old man, falling apart. He decided to head to the bathroom to get some painkillers, he doubted he'd ever get to sleep with the pounding in both his head and his hip.

He checked in the cupboard under the sink, picking up the bottle of weak painkillers, the kind safe enough to leave for the staff to take at will. He turned the bottle into his hand, ready to swallow two or three. Nothing came out. He groaned aloud. This meant he would have to go ask Carson for the extra strong ones. He didn't doubt he needed them but he wasn't sure he could deal with Carson in his state.

He made his way to the butlers pantry, careful not to fall down the stairs, hating the satisfaction it would give Baxter. He was fine, all of this was just temporary side effects that will go away soon and leave him a happy, normal man. 

He knocked on the door, the noise of his own knocking making him wince in pain. How on earth was he going to hold a conversation with Carson. He could only hope the man would give him the painkillers he so obviously needed with no questions asked. 

“Come in.” said Carson's gruff voice. Thomas took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself before opening the door and letting himself in. Carson sat behind his desk and Mrs Hughes sat across from him, the pair sharing a glass of sherry.

“What is it, Mr Barrow?” asked Carson, confused that Thomas was down so late. 

“May i have some painkillers?” asked Thomas. “Please?” he added quickly, not wanting to risk his only chance at sleep by being impolite. 

“Whatever for?” asked Carson. Oh for fucks sake. Can't the bastard just let him get some medication and leave? 

“I've an awful headache and there's none left in the bathroom.” said Thomas, trying not to topple over as he was analysed by Carson's doubting eyes. Mrs Hughes seemed to notice his gentle swaying.

“Thomas are you quite alright? Only you look as if you're ready to pass out.” she asked, her eyes filled with genuine worry. Carson stood up and unlocked the medical cupboard. Thank god. 

“I'm just tired is all.” said Thomas with a tight smile as Carson handed him a single pill. He doubted it would help much but it was better than nothing. 

“Thank you.” he said, swallowing it and leaving. He climbed the stairs slowly, the flight taking him what seemed like years. He stopped at the top to catch his breath, leaning against the wall and panting. 

He somehow made it to his bed before he succumbed to the deep fatigue that had plagued him all day and fell asleep, fully dressed, on top of the covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> think i manifested thomas's headache. anyway please let me know what you think, thank you for all the love on this, it really motivates me! <3


	4. Chapter 4

Thomas woke slowly, groaning when he realised his sheets were drenched with sweat. Probably just another side effect. He couldn't remember what he was dreaming of which meant it was most likely something sweet and wholesome, the treatment was working.

He sat up, gently rubbing his head. It was still pounding slightly but it was nowhere near as excruciating as his hip. He felt the wound throb lightly, not bearing to look at it until he had to. He was sure it'd get better soon. Just another to add to the ever-growing list of “short term side effects”.

He picked up his box and ambled to the bathroom, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. As he looked out the bathroom window he noted how dark it was. What time even was it? He looked to the clock. 4:48am. It was unusual for him to be awake this early but he wasn't complaining at the chance to get ahead of everyone.

He slowly pulled his waistband down, hissing as it slid over his tender hip. He looked down, barely holding in a gasp at the sight before him. The redness had spread across his hip some more, the centre of it starting to crack and blister. He prepared the syringe, trying not to think about the pain it would induce in a few seconds.

He ground his teeth as he pushed the needle in, quickly pressing down on the plunger and pulling it out. Tears welled in his eyes as he pressed a hand to his mouth, muffling his sobs. This was getting harder each day but he knew he had to persist if he wanted a proper life. 

He shaved his face and dried his eyes, quickly swallowing his pill before leaving the bathroom to get dressed. He took off his pyjamas carefully, pulling the material away from his hip before yanking it down, ensuring that it wouldn't brush against the broken skin. He used the same technique when putting on his black livery, sighing in relief when he was all dressed and ready for the day. That wasn't so hard, he thought as he walked downstairs, he could do that until his hip cleared up.

Unsurprisingly there was no one downstairs yet, save a few scullery maids, so he sat down by the fire in the servants hall and opened a newspaper. There wasn't much going on in the world, a few scandalous mps, some national crisis, the usual. What with the dreary news and the rocking of his chair, Thomas felt himself almost being lulled into a slumber. 

That was, until Mrs Patmore came downstairs. Suddenly the servants hall was filled with the sound of various pots and pans clanging, Mrs Patmore shouting at whichever kitchen maid she had chosen to pick on today. Thomas felt his head start to throb again. How did Daisy put up with this?

He wandered past the kitchen, on his way to the back door to sneak a smoke before everyone else woke. He peered in on his way past, wondering what they were making. That was a bad idea. The smell of bacon and eggs hit him like a wall, rendering him nauseous, once again. Mrs Patmore saw his head poke in, not noticing the sickly look on his face. 

“Morning Mr Barrow!” she shouted across the kitchen. His head gave a particularly big throb as he gripped the door frame for support. “Do you want bacon and eggs? I can give you an extra bit of black pudding, i know how much you like it!” Thomas would usually have jumped at the opportunity for a little extra black pudding but instead he just shuddered.

“No thank you Mrs Patmore. I'll just have toast. Later though, i'm off out for a smoke.” he briefly saw the cook peer at him, suspicious, before he quickly fled the room and got outside, sucking in big gulps of the clean, fresh air. He leaned against the cold wall and lit his cigarette, feeling himself relax as he took a deep drag, his fag helping greatly with the ever present waves of nausea.

Soon his cigarette was finished so he lit another. And another. And another. He checked his watch. 6:03am. He should get back inside, everyone else would be getting up around about now. He walked back inside, his nausea almost completely gone, and sat down at his place in the servants hall. He opened his newspaper and read from the start again, paying no attention to the staff that were steadily joining him.

Everyone else struck up conversations, nattering eagerly with one another and Thomas sat alone, his head buried in the newspaper. He felt so lonely, such an outsider. Everyone here had husbands, wives, girlfriends, boyfriends, friends and best friends. All Thomas had were colleagues. No one here liked him, they just tolerated him. 

Maybe that would change once he got better, got a wife, had kids. Maybe then they'd like him. 

~~~ 

The day went by slowly, most of the family were away on some outing so there wasn't much for Thomas to do. He wandered into the kitchen for the fiftieth time that day, looking for something interesting. He leaned on an empty wall, eagerly listening to the drama that was unfolding in there, occasionally snorting when Mrs Patmore said something particularly witty. 

He sipped on his glass of water, abandoning his tea hours ago when it got too hot to drink warm beverages. He didn't know how everyone was wearing their winter wardrobe and shivering, he was positively roasting. He wiped the sweat from his brow as kitchen maids and hallboys milled around him. He enjoyed listening to the maids nattering as they worked, finding it quite relaxing.

That was, until some stupid hallboy walked right into him, the box he was carrying colliding with Thomas's bad hip with force. Thomas yelped and doubled over, tears welling in his eyes. He pressed his gloved hand to his mouth, willing himself not to cry as he felt the eyes of all the kitchen staff turn towards him as his hand flew to his hip. 

He stood up straight again slowly, his eyes squeezed shut, lest tears slip out. After a few seconds of deep breath he opened them. As predicted, everyone was staring at him. He turned to the offending hall boy who stood, stunned by Thomas's reaction. Eventually the boy found his voice.

“I'm sorry Mr Barrow i- i didn't mean to…” he trailed off as Thomas looked down at him, pure anger and contempt replacing the tears in his eyes. He was ready to set all hell loose on the skinny boy but another wave of fatigue washed over him. He hardly had the energy to shout, settling with merely raising his voice slightly.

“Watch where you're going for god sake!” he barked, a hand still on his hip as he leaned back against the wall, pain radiating through his body. The boy scuttled away, thankful he had gotten off so lightly. The kitchen maids and Mrs Patmore stood staring at Thomas.

“What?!” he near shouted, pulling at his collar. God it was hot in here. The maids got back to their work but Daisy wandered over to Thomas, handing him a new cup of water. He took it graciously, gulping it down. 

“Are you alright Thomas?” she asked, looking at him in confusion. Shed known him for a decade and had never seen him as close to breaking as he was then.

“Stupid boy…” muttered Thomas, ignoring daisy’s question. She persisted.

“Did he bruise ya? I can get you some cream or summat.” she asked, wondering why he had reacted so harshly to what was really just a small bump. 

“Haven't you got work to do?” asked Thomas, quite sick of her. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a cigarette, hoping it would help with the pain or at least take his mind off it. Daisy didn't answer him, instead looking at him with something akin to pity. 

Dear god, thought Thomas as he walked out the kitchen, what have I become?


	5. Chapter 5

That night Thomas hardly slept a wink, tossing and turning all night long. Each position he slept in tugged painful on his hip, causing pain to ricochet through his body, keeping him awake. Eventually he elected to sit and read, hoping it would tire him out enough to fall asleep, even if it was just for a few hours. 

Every time he tried to focus on the page in front of him, his mind would go blank, unable to concentrate on the same words he had read over and over again. His eyes shut and he felt himself begin to drift off to sleep, still sat in his armchair. Then his hip sent a nasty burst of pain through his body and he was wide awake again. This was intolerable. 

This was the first time Thomas had considered stopping his treatment. The side effects were becoming unbearable and unmanageable, keeping him up all night and making him exhausted all day. His head constantly ached, just a dull low level aching that was bearable for a short period of time, but after two days of it his patience was growing thin. 

He checked the clock. Four am. Was it too early to go downstairs and get started on his work? Even if he just ended up staring at the wall in the servants hall, the change of scenery would be nice. Thomas picked up his box and made his way to the bathroom to take his morning injection.

He rubbed his eyes as he locked the door behind him, already resigned to that pain that would wrack his body in a few moments time. He went through the motions like clockwork, his body acting on muscle memory as he swayed gently, his mind half asleep. 

He pulled the waistband past his hip, careful to pull it away from the tender spot and looked down. It was worse. The middle had begun to yellow, looking as if it was filled with pus. He plunged the needle in quickly, not trying to hide the yelp of pain. Thomas felt his stomach turn as he pulled the needle out, a small amount of yellow liquid oozing from the injection site. 

He gagged and pulled his trousers up quickly, not wanting to look at it any longer. It had to get better soon. These side effects would go away soon, he was sure of it. They would go away and leave him a new man, a proper man. 

He went over to the sink and began splashing water on his face in an attempt to wake him up somewhat. He looked up at himself in the mirror as he smeared his shaving soap over his face. His eye bags were big and black, making him look gaunt like a skeleton. Thomas shaved quickly, not wanting to look at himself for any longer than necessary. He patted his face on a towel before leaving the bathroom to get dressed.

He felt like he was in a trance, floating down the corridor into his bedroom and then leaving, suddenly in his livery. When did he get changed? He was in his pyjamas just a second ago. A bout of dizziness overcame him as he approached the top of the staircase, causing him to grab hold of the railings, not eager to fall down the three flights and wake everyone up. 

Eventually the dizziness passed and he was able to go down to the servants hall, stoking a fire in the grate and curling up in the armchair next to it. He only intended to sit down for a minute but it was so comfortable… maybe he would stay for a while. No one is up yet, they won't catch him shivering and curled up by the fire. 

He felt his eyes shut, darkness enveloping him… good idea, rest my eyes for a while, he thought. Slowly but surely he drifted off to sleep, the gentle roaring of the fire the soundtrack to his dreams. 

~~~

Thomas was woken by a whispered conversation next to him. He kept his eyes shut, wanting to gauge how many people had seen him like this before he chose his reaction.

“Since I came to do the fire at about half five.” came the meek and whiny voice of Daisy. Thomas groaned internally. For God's sake. Now she would never stop asking him if he was okay.

“Should we wake him d’you think?” Miss Baxter spoke next. Thomas let out an even bigger internal groan. She must think he's truly lost it now, if she didn't before. “Before everyone else comes down…” 

Phew. At least it was only Daisy and Baxter who had seen him like this. Thomas couldn't imagine the embarrassment if Bates or (god forbid) Carson had found him like this. He sat up in his chair and turned to look at the two women who stood next to him, instantly regretting the fast movement as his head spun. 

“No need. I'm awake.” He muttered, glaring at the two of them. He moved his hand to rub his eyes but found that a red tartan blanket was covering him. For fucks sake. “Who did this?” he asked, his voice full of menace. 

“I did…” Answered Daisy, wringing her hands in her apron. “You looked cold, I thought you might appreciate it.”

“Well I don't.” he growled, bunching it up and standing slowly, careful not to induce another bout of dizziness. 

“Thomas!” Scolded Baxter. “She was just doing you a favour, do you have to be so mean? I'm sure he didn't mean it Daisy, that was very kind of you.” 

“I don't want Daisy’s ‘favours’ and yes, i did mean it.” Thomas retorted, his words harsh even though his mind was fuzzy. Daisy looked like she was going to cry and Baxter was staring at him with a look of shock, anger and strangely, pity. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do.”

He stormed out of the servants hall and into Carson’s pantry, deciding that ten to six in the morning was the perfect time to get started on this week's budget. He forgo breakfast, not wanting to be quizzed by the rest of the staff on why he looked so exhausted, not wanting to look into the eyes of Daisy after what he had said, not wanting to be subjected to Baxter's pity. 

He just wanted to be alone. Just for 5 minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didnt have a particularly good time writing this one, i feel like something is a bit off.
> 
> nevertheless, i hope you enjoyed it! <3


	6. Chapter 6

The day went slowly for Thomas, the work as gruelling as usual. The pain of his hip was ever present, as was the pounding in his head, but he supposed he had grown used to it. In some ways he felt detached from his body, as if the pain was no longer part of him. But then it would give a particularly excruciating twinge and he was bought straight back to reality. 

Mostly, he just felt tired. This whole ordeal was so tiring. And not just because of the sleepless nights. This was a bone deep fatigue, one that he knew wouldn't be shifted by a full night's sleep. Not that he could get that, with the burning pain of his hip and the pounding of his head. Oh, and the flushes. 

The flushes were relatively new, compared to some of the other symptoms. They had started the other day and he’s been in the throws of them since. One minute he was boiling hot, feeling as if he’d sweat the pomade out of his hair, his face burning and his hands slippy. The next, he’d be shivering, pulling his jacket around him for a little warmth as goosebumps appeared all over his body. It was absolutely intolerable. He could only hope they went away soon.

He finished listing the new wine order as he tugged at his collar, another hot flush overcoming him. He wiped his brow as he handed the piece of paper to Carson and left the room. Thankfully it wasn't too wet. He faltered for a moment in the corridor, shutting his eyes as dizziness threatened to knock him over once again. He took a deep breath, waiting for it to pass. After a few moments, it did, and he continued his walk down the corridor to the servants hall. 

Through the doorway of the hall, he spied Miss Baxter, reading something on the high desk. As he moved closer he realised what it was. His magazine. Bugger. He ran forward and grabbed it out of her hand, rolling it up and holding it firmly. 

“Where did you get this?” He asked, fury and fear threatening to spill over. He heart dropped as a thought hit him. He spoke again. “Have you been in my room?”

His room had been the last place he'd seen it. This begged the question: what was she doing in his room? Maybe she was looking for his syringes, trying to take them and show them to Carson. Was she trying to get him fired?

“Of course not! You dropped it in the passage and Mrs Hughes found it.” Baxter stood stock still as she tried to defend herself, she was obviously scared of what Thomas would do to her. 

“Mrs Hughes found it.” Repeated Thomas, his voice clipped, still seething at the woman. “But Miss Baxter read it.” 

He swayed gently with barely suppressed fury. His head was pounding again but he resisted raising a hand to rub it, not wanting to show any signs of weakness in front of the ladies maid. 

“I'm sorry for what you've put yourself through, if what I think is correct.” Said Baxter, her voice soft and worried. Thomas only just held back a growl. As if his day couldn't get any worse.

“Don't you pity me.” He snapped, his eyes hard and cold. “Don't you dare pity me.” 

With that, he stormed out of the room, not waiting to see what condescending reply that woman would give him. How dare she be sorry for him? He was doing something good for himself, something good for everyone around him. Why on earth would she be sorry that he was becoming a proper man? 

She was probably just jealous, the stupid, nebby, lonely bitch. 

Thomas found himself outside his bedroom and entered, throwing the magazine on his bed before changing into his nightclothes. He hung up his livery and brushed his hair quickly before getting into bed, wincing as he put pressure on his bad hip. He picked up the magazine and sat back in his bed, electing to remind himself why he was going through all this pain.

He remembered how everyone's attitudes towards him had changed when they learnt his true nature, instantly becoming wary of him, as if he couldn't control himself. He remembered how his father had kicked him out onto the streets with nothing once he found out, never to speak to Thomas again. If only he had the cure back then. 

But he had it now. Better late than never. Soon he would be a proper man, a man with a wife, maybe even a child. Oh that would be brilliant. Thomas had always adored children, their unconditional love and kindness. Now he could have one of his own. Thomas smiled gently at the thought of a little raven haired boy or girl, a child he could raise to be loving and kind. 

He was so excited for the future.


	7. Chapter 7

Thomas stood by the servants door. On his hip was a black haired toddler. She giggled as he tapped her small nose, grinning at her as they began to walk away.

After a surprisingly short time they got to a pond. The girl squealed to be put down, pointing excitedly at the ducks near the water's edge. Thomas put her down and watched as she bounded over to the ducks, her little booted feet landing heavily on the grass. 

The baby in his other arm babbled, his light grey eyes staring up at Thomas. When had he gotten there? Thomas stroked the baby’s cheek with one finger, his heart so full of joy he thought he would burst. 

The toddler called over to him, her soft black hair blowing in the wind. He walked over to her, squatting down next to her as she tugged off her boots to paddle in the shallow water, trying to get even closer to the ducks. He took off the baby's small shoes, placing them in his pocket before holding him above the pond, letting his minute feet splash about in the water as his sister rambled on about the ducks. 

A great feeling of contentedness washed over Thomas as he watched his children play together. This was why he was put on this planet. This was his purpose. 

He lifted the baby back into his arms again, lovingly drying his little feet before letting his rest on his side. The infant kicked at him, his chubby little legs colliding with Thomas’s hip. He lifted him away but the pain persisted, becoming a burning sensation that caused him to double over, clutching the baby boy to his chest. 

Thomas opened his eyes.

Oh.

His eyes filled with tears as he realised he was not, in fact, at the pond with his beautiful children, but rather in his tiny bedroom at Downton Abbey. He sat up in bed, the pain in his hip becoming unbearable. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, resting his head in his hands as a sob escaped him. His shoulders shook as more and more heaving sobs wracked his body. 

It seemed so real. Why couldn't it be real? He wept, wept for the children that had never lived. All alone in his dark bedroom, Thomas grieved for a life he thought he could never have. At least there was hope now. The treatment was going to give him the life he always wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very short chapter this time guys, but i hope you enjoyed it anyway! 
> 
> <3


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